


Confession

by El Staplador (elstaplador)



Series: Some shall be pardoned, and some punished [1]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: Gen, Other, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Revenge, Yuletide Treat, vocation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/pseuds/El%20Staplador
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entering the convent, Rosaline looks back, and, reluctantly, forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gehayi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gehayi/gifts).



I understand. You think I am only doing this to escape, to get away from the guilt now, as I wanted to get away from that man’s loathsome attentions before. But I know that I have been pondering this for some time. You have to believe me: I have always known that my place is here, long before he marked me for his next conquest; what has happened over the past few days has only confirmed my calling.

Guilt? Oh, yes. I am convinced that I could have done something to prevent this. They try to absolve me. They tell me that I could not know what was going to happen. They tell me that I was innocent. They lie, and I know it. I was only ignorant, and even when it became obvious I stood aside. I did nothing. I was the one person who could have changed things, and I failed to take that opportunity.

What could I have done? I should have thought that would be obvious, even to you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way. Yes. What I could have done. I could have indulged his wishes. Oh, I know it would have been a sin. But better it was me. I knew what he was. I could have protected myself. She – poor infant, she was helpless.

I hate him. I always did. Whatever the Prince says, whatever you say, Reverend Mother, this feud runs deep. It runs deeper now. He killed my cousin, as surely as he’d put that dagger in her himself. I believe that he did. Poor Juliet, she had so much to live for. He took it away from her.

Say she thought she loved him. Say she did love him. What then? He’d have tired of her; he tired of every one. I should know. In a way I’m glad for Juliet’s sake that she died before she knew what he was. It would have broken her heart. And I am devoutly thankful that at least he rid the world of such a parasite as himself. I would not have anyone else suffer as she must have done. A man like that is dangerous, better out of the world.

Have pity, you say, Reverend Mother. I speak of a poor lost soul. Had he pity? Did he cease even for a moment in his lustful pursuit to consider what this might do to her? He could not have loved her; he would not have brought her to destruction had he loved her. I have tried to have pity, but I find it impossible. Maybe in time I can learn to forgive him, you say. Today I hate him. And tomorrow I shall hate him. Next week, next year. Always.

I shall have no peace until I learn to forgive, you say. What about Juliet? What peace is there for her? In my mind I hear her screaming, and whether she is a murderer’s victim crying for vengeance, or a suicide in hell I cannot tell. But how can I help hating the man who brought her to that?

Oh yes, there has been quite enough killing. How could anyone have seen poor Juliet and said that there was more innocent blood yet to be spilt? If that villainous young Montague was still alive and plaguing the streets I would be the first to call for his hanging, but he has gone where he belongs, and let that be an end of it.

I am surprising you. You wonder why I do not wish the whole Godforsaken family blotted from the earth. I do, oh, I do, Reverend Mother. That is Rosaline’s heart speaking. In her head she knows that it would make matters no better. My heart cries out for blood. My head says, enough. It is enough. An eye for an eye, a life for a life. That is justice. But was not her life worth ten of his? She could have been so much more than he was ever going to be.

That is why I am here now. There are two sides to this calling of mine. There is the first, that you have sought so diligently, that has brought me here through all these coils, the simple message that says: God wants you, here, now. And there is the dark calling, the order that is a dismissal rather than a summons; the voice that says, here, at least, you can take no vengeance, you can do no more harm, accursed Capulet. Go, the last of this race, wear out your life in fruitless chastity, and let your house die with you.

He used to talk that way, you know. I took no heed of him then, when I was worldly and scornful, but the voice in my own mind (it is not God's, so it must be the Devil's) insists upon it now.

Then let the Capulets die! I care not; an you take me, Reverend Mother, I shall cease to be a Capulet long before my uncle succumbs to time and grief. I shall not miss Rosaline: dog-rose, growling cur. I have been her too long, and I am weary. Rosaline was beloved, and could not speak for her she loved; Rosaline was lovely to behold, but – as you see, Reverend Mother – a vile cantankerous soul within. I would my new name were not so much as written down. I would be known for what I do, not who I am.

You say I must learn to love once more: that you will take me, as Our Lord would take me, with a heart full of hatred, but that I must not expect either of you to let me remain so. Very well: but let me sorrow.

I loved her, Reverend Mother; I loved her as no other did. Not her father, not her mother, certainly not that Montague dog – very well. No. I have said so. Oh, yes, I know. That is the way it must be if I enter this place. What you command me, I must obey, even if it be to forgive my dearest enemy. Oh, but not yet!

Every path that I have looked down would have brought me here, to you, but the one that I have walked has been strewn with stones and lined with thorns. If you have any Christian charity, you will understand that I must stop to pull them from my feet.

Then, I pray you, show me the path, and I will walk it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Confession](https://archiveofourown.org/works/808372) by [Chestnut_filly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chestnut_filly/pseuds/Chestnut_filly)




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